Those Old High School Days
by PhantomGirl1731
Summary: Onward for Ironwood..." Who says you can't go home again? A vision of Sam's sends the brothers, and their new girl side-kick Max, to Arizona to find...well, read the story to find out what -- Best to read "Touch of Evil" first
1. Chapter 1

**It's a new Dean/Max story. If you liked the first one, there's a lot more story where that came from :)**

* * *

"**Those Old High School Days"**

Dean sighed, and handed the money to the acne-case man in the tollbooth. "Explain to me again why we're coming here?"

Max shrugged, and glanced at him over Luke's head. "For a man with a complete arsenal in his trunk, you don't seem very excited. Besides, it's an O'Reilly family tradition."

"You have got to be kidding me," Sam said from the back seat.

"She's right," Noah said, sitting next to him. "Our dad took her when she was ten, and she keeps on goin'. She took Charlie when he was ten, and they took me, and we took Luke last year."

"It's kind of like a right of passage for us O'Reilly's. Or something like that," Charlie shrugged.

"That's why Max has a box load of crappy jewelry," Luke smirked, "She buys a ring or necklace twice a year at these shows."

"Thanks Luke," Max shook her head.

"The big thing in your lives," Sam said, as Dean parked the car, "Is going to a gun show?"

All the O'Reilly's exchanged glances, "Yeah."

***

"Is there anything here worth less than a hundred bucks?" Dean asked, as they walked through the tables filled with guns, knives, and ammunition.

"Jewelry," Max said, "Some packs of ammo, the T-shirts, hats, stupid junk like that."

"So why do you even bother coming here?" Dean asked.

"Hey, being a bonded courier pays damn good money," Max protested, "And that ten grand check from Ramon a few months back also helps."

"Ten grand?" Dean said, impressed.

"Didn't I tell you the story?" Max asked.

"Don't think so," Dean answered.

"Well, this guy, Ramon—" She was cut off when an alarm went off at a nearby table. Both she and Dean whirled around, and Luke and Noah stood there.

"Plug it back in," Luke was saying.

"Working on it!" Noah snapped back.

"It's not that hard!" Luke said, as Noah fixed the circuit.

There were a few people looking at him, and Noah smiled sheepishly, "My bad!"

Max walked over to him, "Touch _nothing_ for the rest of the afternoon."

"Yes ma'am," Noah sighed.

"You see?" Luke said, "That's why we can't play with nice things!" Now people were staring at him, "Not that these things are toys…no…"

Max chuckled, and nudged her brothers along, "Move along boys, move along." She walked back over to Dean, who was laughing out loud at the sight. "Oh shut up," She snapped.

"I swear…your family," Dean shook his head, "Never a dull moment."

"You haven't seen anything," Max told him. "We're a lot weirder than this."

They met up with Sam, who was making his way through the hat section.

"Excuse me, sir!" A boy scout said, holding up a flyer.

"I'm sorry," Sam answered, "But I don't have any cash on me, nor do I have a check book."

"Oh…okay then," The boy scout nodded, and walked away to find someone else.

"Odd that boy scouts are looking for stuff at these events," Max frowned.

"That's the fifth one that tried it," Sam sighed.

"Hey, looks like Charlie found something free," Dean said, pointing.

Charlie was talking to a good-looking brunette girl. Both smiled, then Charlie leaned against something, which turned out to be a gun rack. The whole thing fell to the floor with a loud crash, making both jump backward in fright.

Sam and Dean burst out laughing, and Max covered her eyes with her hand, shaking her head in shame.

"He's on his own," Max shook her head, and walked away, with Dean following behind her.

Sam sighed, and walked over to help Charlie stand the rifles up and make sure nothing had been broken.

"I'm really sorry, sir," He was saying, and the old man didn't look pleased.

The girl shook her head at Charlie's misfortune, and said, "Grandpa, you know it was only an accident, right?"

"I guess since nothing was damaged," the older man sighed.

The girl winked at Charlie, and shook his hand, before they walked off.

"So is that your way of impressing girls?" Sam teased, "Knocking over displays?"

"Not one of my finer moments, I admit," Charlie shrugged, "But she gave me her number anyway. So it's all good."

"Whatever you say, Grace," Sam shook his head. They found Max and Dean by a jewelry vendor.

Max paid the woman, and said, "And there's my jewelry fix for the day."

"Isn't it customary for a man to pay for the woman's things?" Charlie asked.

"On a date," Max told him. "This isn't a date, this is…a traditional trip where six people go as friends and look around at stuff." She turned, and left Charlie standing there with his mouth hanging open.

Dean caught up to her in the hallway, "I thought this was a date."

"It is," Max agreed, "But he didn't need to know that."

"You aren't like other chicks, Max," Dean shook his head.

"Damn straight, baby," Max smirked at him, "Damn straight."

They entered another area filled with people and tables. A table filled with colts caught Max's eye, and she headed straight for it. She walked along, moving with the crowd, looking at them all.

"We lookin' for something specific here?" Dean asked.

Max picked up a colt, and examined it carefully, without unplugging the security cord. She gave a nod, and the vendor walked up to her. "Can I help ya?"

"Yes," Max nodded, "I want this."

The man looked at her, then at the gun. "Are you sure about that, miss? Because I have some much better—"

"You mean less caliber," Max frowned.

"Now I didn't say that—"

"It's what you meant," Max cut him off. "I would like this gun. I have the cash to pay for it, or a credit card. But I want this gun."

"Fine, one fifty," The man said in defeat.

"I'll give you seventy five," Max said.

"What?"

"Seventy five, no more. You want this gun gone, you'll sell it to me for that price," Max snapped.

"Fine, seventy five."

Max pulled out her wallet, and took out the bills, and handed them to him. He walked away, and Max made a face at him. "Damn sexist pig," She growled.

"Don't you think you went a little overboard?" Dean asked.

"No, actually, he was meaning less caliber," Max said. "He is a sexist pig."

Dean frowned, "And you know this how?"

The man handed her the case, the gun, and a box of bullets. "There, now have a nice day."

"I want the bullets," Max said.

"The bullets are in the box, lady," The man said.

"I want the right bullets for the gun," Max held out her hand.

The man scowled, and handed her the box.

"Thank you," Max said.

"Fifteen bucks."

"Think again," Max answered. "Free."

"What?"

"You heard me," Max snapped.

"Fine, just leave," The man snapped back.

Max took her purchases, and walked out of the room, leaning against the hallway wall.

"You're bleeding," Dean said.

Max wiped the blood away from her nose, and rubbed her head. "I shouldn't have done that in a crowded place…"

"What did you do?" Dean asked.

"The hatchling increased my abilities," Max answered. She looked extremely tired, and she kept wiping blood from her nose. "The look he gave me when I asked for the colt…I let down the mental shields, and just…listened."

"That answers my first question," Dean said.

"He doesn't think I can handle this gun, or any gun for that matter," Max said. "Figured I was getting the gun for my boyfriend or husband…if that was the life I chose."

"Jackass," Dean glared at the man, who was helping a guy, giving him an easier time while looking at the colts. Then he turned to Max, "Hey, why did you choose that, anyway?"

Max smiled, "My grandfather, he had a colt like this. Exact replica. But…I don't want to use my grandfather's gun, I wanted my own." Her eyes lit up, "Since I was eighteen…I've been searching for this."

"Well, now you've got me," Dean smiled, "You'll be using it a lot."

"I was gonna use it on the ghosts," Max said innocently, "Why would I use it on you?" She walked away, and Dean realized how the comment sounded.

"Max, one, me, zero," Dean muttered, trailing along behind her.

Meanwhile, Sam wandered toward a middle section, and found Noah and Luke laughing at stupid bumper stickers.

"That one we should get for Max," Noah was saying.

"Which one's that?" Sam asked, joining their conversation.

"This one," Luke held it up.

It read, _Yes, this is my pickup truck. No, I will not help you move._

"Sounds like Max," Sam chuckled.

"Dude, how much is it?" Noah asked.

Sam felt the beginning of a headache, as he glanced at the other stickers. It got worse quickly, way too quickly…Sam gripped his head as the vision hit.

_Red lockers lined the outdoor hallway. _

_"Dude…I'm tellin' you, it was moving!" A kid with black spiky hair said to his friend. _

_"Harold's a scarecrow," His buddy frowned. "Remember? Like the one in the book? Which is made up?"_

_"I guess you're right…"_

Sam opened his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose. Noah and Luke were a few tables away, and Charlie had gone back to talking with the brunette from earlier. Sam went off to find Max and Dean, wishing he had more to go on. Of course, when he went through the other two rooms, he saw a lot of people, but neither Max nor Dean. He sighed, and backtracked. Something was moving out of the corner of his eye. He turned, and sighed at the sight he saw. Clearing his throat, he said, "Hey! I thought makin' out in the hallway was just for high school kids."

Dean leapt away from Max as if she'd burned him, then gave a horrified noise, and quickly walked back over to Max's side after noticing he'd landed in the women's room. "What the hell?" He whined.

Max folded her arms and shrugged, "Hey, you chose this spot."

Dean smirked, then shook his head, and cleared his throat, "Um…you wanted something?"

"Besides wishing I'd had a camera for that lovely moment?" Sam rolled his eyes, "Yeah, I just…" He felt the headache flare up again, "I just…" he held out his index finger signaling them to wait, then clutched at his head.

_"We never shoulda named it."_

_"Dude…you are totally…" His friend shook his head, "Dude, Harold is a scarecrow! Filled with newspaper and yarn and other stuff from the craft store! There is no way that thing got up and moved on its own!"_

_"I saw it! I saw him move, like the one from the book! And he's gonna kill us, then take our bloody skins and stretch them out on the roof of the barn!"_

_"Okay, first of all," His friend sighed, "Was it really a barn? Second, this is Glendale, Arizona! Who owns a barn here?"_

_"Um…"_

_"Further more, it was a stupid horror story! Keyword, story!"_

_"I don't know man," The boy shook his head, "I really don't know."_


	2. Chapter 2

"Sam?" Dean asked, "Sam, you okay?"

Sam gripped his head, "Damn…talk about a double whammy…" He realized he was on the floor, propped up against the wall. "What…what happened?"

"You fell," Max said, kneeling next to him. "Or…dropped, maybe. You almost fell on your face. What did you see?"

"There's…these two guys," Sam began, "I keep seeing their conversation."

"Keep? What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"I had a vision just a few minutes ago," Sam explained. The headache was fading away, and he got to his feet. "Ah…high school guys. Keep talkin' about a scarecrow named Harold."

"Harold," Max smiled. "My friend loved the story of Harold the Scarecrow. It's in _Scary Stories 3_ if I recall correctly."

"So…what's with these guys and their new buddy Harold?" Dean asked, rolling his eyes.

"It's a moving scarecrow, at least, that's what his friend thinks," Sam sighed. "He seems pretty certain."

"I say we go," Max said, "I'd like to see a moving scarecrow."

"It's a scarecrow," Dean said in disbelief. "Scarecrows don't move."

"Hey, if the guy's legit," Max pointed out, "It'll be right up our ally."

Dean still looked unconvinced.

"Besides, two visions in ten minutes?" Max continued, "Probably means somethin's up."

"Fine," Dean sighed, "But I'm tellin' you, it's probably nothin'."

Max nodded, and grabbed her cell phone from her bag, sending a text message to her brothers to meet by the Impala. She grabbed her gun case, and asked, "Come on boys."

They met the boys by the Impala. Noah had bought the bumper sticker, Charlie had the brunette's number, and Luke wore a black hat that had the word _Winchester_ on it.

"Looks like all the O'Reilly's found something," Dean commented.

"The sticker's goin' on Max's truck," Noah smiled.

Max took the sticker from his hand, as they all climbed into the Impala, and laughed at it, "Oh yeah, definitely goin' on the _Falcon._"

The ride back to their home wasn't quiet, Noah and Luke jabbered on about the guns they'd seen, and Charlie stored the brunette's number in his cell phone.

"A shining moment when Charlie knocked down the…whoa…" Noah trailed off when they passed into the layer of heat. "What the heck?"

"Great…" Max muttered, and checked a nearby thermostat. "98…" She led the group upstairs, "Boys, go upstairs and do your homework."

"Aww, jeez," came three replies.

"Now," Max said.

"At first I thought she was talkin' to us," Dean smirked to Sam.

"I heard that," Max scowled, "I'm goin' to talk to Justin, you meet me in the apartment…and probably turn on a fan or somethin'…" She said, waving a hand near her face.

The Winchesters trooped past her, and Max knocked on Justin's door. He answered it shirtless and in a pair of Bermuda shorts. "Headin' for the beach?"

"Damn, Max," Justin frowned, "I think AC's out in the whole building—"

"Mother of God!"

"It's like Hades in here!"

"I think Sam and Dean can give an agreement to that," Max smiled, shaking her head.

Justin scowled at the mention of Dean, "I don't know what you see in him."

"You're just upset because he came back to set things right," Max smirked.

"Whatever," Justin shook his head.

"I'm a big girl, Justin," Max told him, "I'm capable of making my own decisions."

"Yeah, I know," Justin nodded. "Moving on…"

"Oh, um, can you look after the boys while I'm gone?" Max asked.

"Where're you going?"

"Sam had a vision," Max explained, "We're goin' to check it out. I'll let you know the details later."

"All right," Justin nodded, and closed his door.

Max then walked upstairs, finding the heat got increasingly worse the higher she climbed. She opened her door, and closed it behind her, putting the colt case on the floor nearby.

Sam and Dean were at different ends of the apartment, sitting in front of fans. They were dripping in sweat, which Max didn't blame them, it was probably a hundred and five in here.

Seeing a scrunchie on a nearby table, Max pulled her already sticky hair back into a ponytail. "So…Sam…where's this place your vision's takin' us?" She asked, heading for the kitchen. She grabbed the phone book, and started flipping through it.

"It's a high school," Sam said, raising his voice to be heard over the fan. "Red lockers…brick walls…"

Max frowned thoughtfully, "Huh…sounds like my first high school…but how 'bout a place?" She picked up the book, marking the place with her finger, and carried it over to the phone.

"Kid said Glendale, Arizona," Sam answered.

Max dropped the phone book, which landed with a thud. She grimaced, but turned to stare at Sam, "Run that by me one more time?"

"Glen-Dale, Air-is-oh-nah," Sam said slowly.

Max frowned, and picked up the phone book. "Ironwood High School."

"Huh?" Dean shouted from the other side of the room, also trying to be heard over the roar of a fan.

"Never mind!" Max called back.

Sam looked at her strangely, but she turned her back on him as she called a repairman for her air conditioning. Sam thought back to his vision, and suddenly remembered they were carrying small, spiral notebooks, emblazoned with the words, _Ironwood High School._

"How did she know that?" He muttered.

"What?" Dean called.

"Nothing!" Sam answered.

Max rolled her eyes, "You guys will not survive Arizona…" She muttered, and opened her fridge. She grabbed three water bottles, one she tossed to Sam, and the other she hurled across the room to Dean.

"Damn!" Dean said. "Nice throw!"

"I played softball for eight years," Max shrugged, uncapping the third bottle and drinking from it. "What can I say?"

"I know you played softball!" Dean called, "You said Mary beat the crap out of a guy when he almost raped one of your girls!"

"What the hell kind of high school did you go to?" Sam asked.

"Aww jeez, must you both do that?" Max rolled her eyes. "It was a perfectly good high school. You've met Mary, she's very…um…"

"Tough," Dean suggested.

"That could work," Max nodded.

"Hey," Sam asked, "Can we leave soon? For the trip I mean."

"Arizona's probably gonna be just as hot," Max told him.

"Yeah, but we can get a room with air conditioning," Dean added.

"We can leave tomorrow," Max said. "Dude…you're not gonna love this trip."


	3. Chapter 3

***

_"Now approaching, Cholla Street," the automated female voice said._

_The kid pressed the yellow strip, and a bell dinged. Slowly, the bus came to a stop, and he got off, walking across the field of dirt, stepping on the occasional weed or patch of crab grass. He reached an apartment complex, and walked to the second floor apartment. _

_When he walked in, he walked past a woman, who had to be about twenty-five, said, "Take the scarecrow down."_

_"What for?"_

_"The landlord demanded it," she answered, "It's too ugly to look at. And it's on a balcony, guarding over a few potted plants."_

_"It's guarding something," He shrugged, and tossed his books onto the table. The small spiral notebook with the school's mascot was seen from the top. _

_The boy walked out onto the balcony, and looked at the scarecrow. It was held together with duct tape, and filled with newspaper and yarn, with a paper bag head. He shrugged, and took the thing down, and leaned it against the wall. Then he grabbed a watering can, and disappeared into the house._

Sam opened his eyes, and looked around, seeing the Impala's interior. The heat hit him instantly, and he groaned, "Where are we?"

"Somewhere in Glendale," Max said from the backseat, filing her nails.

"So…how much driving is left?" Dean asked.

"Don't ask me," Max shrugged, "I'm not the one that had the vision."

Sam was gazing out the window, and saw the familiar dirt patch. There was a crowd gathered at a nearby apartment complex, along with an ambulance, and a news van. "Something tells me we're here," He said quietly.

The car rounded the corner, then pulled to a stop. The three got out, and joined the mass of people trying to get a better view.

Max asked an older woman, "What happened here?"

"Poor kid," She said. "His name was Zack Kane. Prankster, but not a bad kid. His sister just found him murdered…you could see his skin stretched across the wall just a few minutes ago…" She pointed to a large red patch on the wall on the second story.

"His _skin_?" Dean asked.

"That's what I heard," The woman nodded. "And…it kind of looked like him. Had dark hair at least."

"Zack Kane…" Max frowned, "Where have I heard that name before?"

The crowd cleared away after it realized all the action had passed. The trio headed for the car, and Max shook her head, "I've heard that name before…"

***

Dean pulled into the parking lot of a hotel ten minutes later. "Don't they have any cheap motels here?"

"Not your small, middle of nowhere town, Dean," Max shrugged. "So it's most likely a no…unless there's some in downtown Glendale…"

"There's a downtown?" Sam smirked, "I figured this was downtown."

"Naw…I think that was just a bunch of old antique shops," Max shook her head.

"You sure do know a lot about this place," Dean commented. He put his keys in his pocket and opened the door.

"Not a bad memory after eleven years," Max shrugged, getting out of the car herself.

"Eleven years?" Sam asked.

"What? You thought I always lived in Denver?" Max asked.

Sam looked at Dean, "Yeah."

Max frowned, "Nope. Born here, raised here by my parents." She shook her head, "They died, we all went to live with my aunt in Denver."

Dean opened the trunk, and Max grabbed her bag, heading for the entrance.

"Huh…"

"What?" Sam asked, grabbing his own bag.

"Just never knew about that before," Dean shrugged.

"There's a lot about Max we don't know," Sam commented. "If she wants us to know something, or if there's something she only wants you to know, she'll tell you."

"Thanks Dr. Phil," Dean rolled his eyes, grabbed his bag, and slammed the trunk closed.

Sam rolled his eyes, and followed them to the lobby. Dean got a room, and they were still silent when they got into the elevator.

"Dude, will somebody say something already?" Max sighed.

"What's there to say?" Dean asked.

"I don't know…something!" Max rolled her eyes, "Like…I don't know…"

"That was the boy in the vision," Sam said, "I'm sure of it."

"Lovely," Max sighed. The elevator opened, and the three trooped out, heading for their room.

When the door opened, all three tried to get through the door at once.

"Dude…this isn't our day," Dean grumbled.

"I'm startin' to agree with you," Max shook her head, and shoved her way into the room, making Sam and Dean stumble. She plopped down on the bed, sighing.

Sam sat on the other one, "And I just had a vision…a dream…kid took down this…I'm guessin' it was a scarecrow…then he grabbed a watering can."

"Then what?" Dean asked.

"He walked inside his house, and that's it," Sam frowned. "Dream over."

Max then sat up, "I remember now!"

"Remember what?" the brothers asked.

"Zack Kane," Max said, "Now I remember him. I knew his sister Shelley. We were friends…he was only about…six years old when I last saw him. But I remember him."

"Well, that's useful," Dean rolled his eyes.

"Actually, it could be," Max shrugged. "Sam and I can go talk to her tomorrow, you can go talk to the school kids, his teachers—"

"Why do I have to do that?" Dean snapped.

"Well, it'll probably be nice to talk to people who are your mental peers," Sam smirked.

Dean scowled, and gave him the finger in response.

"A visual aide," Sam said to Max.

"Besides…if Shelley is the same as I remember her…" Max frowned thoughtfully, "Yeah, showing up with my boyfriend…probably not the way to go. Then again, showing up with my boyfriend's brother, maybe not the best way to go either…but she may not remember me, so it may not matter." She smirked, and went back down on the bed, "Still, Dean will have to deal with the scary high school kids on his own."

"Shut up," Dean rolled his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

***

Dean walked onto the campus, noticing the definite red theme. There were red brick buildings, and the doors and window frames were also painted red, as well as the gates closing off the school. "I'm assuming a school color here is red," He muttered.

He caught part of a conversation, since the kid was shouting across the area at another, then saw the kid he was speaking to hold up his middle finger and call out, "You're gay!"

"Ah yes, maturity at its finest. This'll be fun."

Dean then stepped into the office of the high school, wishing he could be anywhere but here. _Ah well, the job must be done…no matter if the worker doesn't want to go to school…_

"Can I help you?"

The woman and the reception desk smiled at him. "Sir, can I help you?"

"Oh, yes," Dean nodded, "I'm Detective Ford, I'm here regarding the murder of Zackary Kane."

"Ah yes, Zack…" She frowned, "I'm assuming you'd be wanting to speak with his friends then."

"Yes, if you could call them here, or if you could tell me where to find them I'd really appreciate it," Dean replied.

***

"You got the right ID?" Max asked, "Nothing that says Bikini Inspector on it?"

"Hey!" Sam said defensively, as he closed the door on his side of the car. "That was a one time deal."

"Yet still a funny story," Max grinned.

"Yeah, well," Sam said, falling into step beside her, "At least I have the right ID this time."

"Good for you," Max nodded, ringing the doorbell.

When the door opened, Sam noticed that the girl from his vision stood before them. _Definitely makes things easier, _he thought.

"Hey, are you Michelle Kane?" Max asked sweetly.

"Yeah," The girl nodded, "What do you want?"

"Well…I'm Detective Maxine Brennan, and this is my partner Sam McAlester. We're here to investigate your brother's death." Max said, "May we come in?"

"Yeah," Michelle nodded, and held the door open for them. "So…can I get you anything?"

"No," Max said, "We just want to ask a few questions."

Michelle eyed her critically, but nodded, "Sure. Shoot."

"You were the one that found your brother?" Sam asked, "I mean…"

"Yeah," Michelle nodded. "I heard a scream…and ran out to see what happened."

"What did happen?" Max asked.

"I don't know," Michelle shook her head, "I just ran out there…his watering can was knocked over, and…his skin…" She cringed, "It was stretched across the wall. As if it were…drying."

"Tell me," Max then asked, "Was there anyone on the balcony with him? Or were there sounds of a struggle?"

"What do you mean?" Michelle asked.

"She means," Sam cut in, "Was there anyone that could've done this to him?"

"No," Michelle shook her head, "I mean…he was alone, except for the ugly scarecrow."

"Scarecrow?" Max asked.

"He and his friend named it Harold," Michelle shook her head, and folded her arms, "Like from the story."

"I'm familiar with Harold," Max nodded.

Michelle frowned, "Max?"

"'Bout time you recognized me," Max said.

"Oh my god!" Michelle said, "So…you finally got your dream job, huh?"

"Uh…yeah," Max smiled.

"And you have a good lookin' partner to boot," Michelle said, glancing at Sam.

"Eh, he's okay," Max shook her head. "Anyway, the scarecrow, where was it?"

"Come again?"

"I mean, did he take it down, was it put up, what?" Max asked.

"Our landlord complained about it," Michelle said, "Said it was too ugly to look at. I thought I saw the thing lying beside the door…but when I got out there, it was back on the stake."

"Huh…" Max said thoughtfully. "Well…I think that's about it, thanks Shell-Bell."

"Don't call me Shell-Bell," Michelle said, showing them to the door. "I hated that name."

"I know," Max chuckled, as they walked out the door.

They were halfway to the Impala when Michelle called back, "See yah later, Twiggy!"

Max froze, and gritted her teeth. She turned on her heel, "That was low!"

"I know," Michelle imitated Max, waved goodbye, and shut the door.

Sam was laughing at this point, "Dude…they called you Twiggy?"

"Oh shut up," Max said, as her cheeks turned red. "I was skinny…all the girls in my family are skinny!"

"Yeah, but the name Twiggy," Sam still chuckled as he sat behind the wheel of the Impala.

"Shut up, _Sammy_," Max snapped.

"Still not as bad as Twiggy," Sam shook his head, and turned the key in the ignition. He glanced at her, "Twiggy."

"Shut up!"


	5. Chapter 5

***

Dean was having no luck. He'd heard the same things about Zack, he was funny, he was a prankster, and he was a good kid…over and over again. His head was resting on his arms on the table when the door opened again.

The girl was wearing black eyeliner and lipstick, along with fluorescent green eye shadow. The bleach blonde hair made her look extremely pale, and the makeup was a stark contrast. She popped her gum loudly, and her dark eyes stared right through him, "You wanted to know about Zack Kane?"

"That's why I'm here, yeah," Dean nodded. "Your name?"

"Christine Mitchell."

"And…" Dean had a feeling he didn't need to elaborate, she knew what was coming.

Christine played with the pentagram she wore around her neck, and said, "Didn't like him."

"That's the first I've heard."

"Born to be different," Christine shrugged. "That's my motto. I didn't like him, and didn't see why anyone else could."

"Okay…" Dean said, "Any personal reason to hate him?"

"Nope," Christine said. "Just do."

Dean frowned, "You're not gonna give me any more than that, are you?"

"I can see why this is _your_ job," Christine smirked, folding her arms.

Dean's nerves were shot, "Just get out."

"Thank you sir," Christine said, and within seconds was gone.

Dean got to his feet, and walked out of the building. _Never again am I talkin' to the high school kids. Sam and Max can do that._

***

"So what's the story of Harold the Scarecrow, anyway?" Sam asked, sitting on his bed, with the laptop open in front of him.

Max opened one eye, "Ah…I don't really remember. I mean, I know these two guys…I think they were farmers…made a scarecrow, and called it Harold. I think they mistreated it or something, but Harold came to life."

"On his own?" Sam asked skeptically.

"Dude, you've never read those books, have you?"

"What books?"

"_Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, More Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, _and _Scary Stories 3,_" Max said. "That's where the Harold story came from."

"So?"

"Sam, these are stories where a family finds this big toe, cuts it out of the ground, and eats it. Then the ghost comes lookin' for his toe," Max said. "These aren't your regular ghost stories."

Sam rolled his eyes, "So Harold comes to life. What happens next?"

"Like I said," Max sighed, "I don't really remember. The last part I remember vividly."

"Well?"

"Well, it also proves my theory of Harold the scarecrow," Max shrugged. "One of the guys goes back to the barn where Harold is kept. He doesn't return. His buddy goes to the barn, and he sees Harold stretching a fresh skin across the roof."

"Sounds like the same thing then," Sam said. "But these guys didn't believe Harold was real. Just their crappy-made scarecrow."

"Huh…I'm goin' back to see Michelle. Maybe she saw it move, or heard Zack talk about it," Max said, sitting up.

"And if she didn't?"

Max paused at the door. "Well…my main home is in Denver. It's not like I'll see someone who thinks I'm a lunatic."

Sam shook his head, "You want to go alone?"

"For today," Max said, nodding. "A friend, catching up with an old one…that kind of thing."


	6. Chapter 6

***

Dean got off the bus; even more cranky then he'd been with the stupid teenagers. "I hate high school kids, and I hate the bus!"

For the past half-hour, he'd had to hear about the day the guy next to him had to catch five busses to get to his new job. About something funny this lady did, and a kid who wouldn't shut up.

The Impala sat in the parking lot, unharmed, which gave him some relief. _Next time, I'm takin' it with me._

The lobby was empty, as was the elevator and hallways. Which was what Dean wanted, alone. No strangers to tell them random stories from their lives. He walked into the room, finding Sam sitting on his bed, focused on the laptop. "Where's Max?"

"Searchlights were out, so she tunneled out of the room with a spoon," Sam said, looking at him.

_Dude, Sammy made a joke,_ Dean thought, and asked, "Okay, so where did she go?"

"She went to see her friend," Sam explained. "Took the bus." He sat up and rubbed his eyes, "About ten minutes ago."

"So," Dean frowned, "Learn anything new?"

"Yeah," Sam chuckled, "One of her aliases is Twiggy."

"Twiggy?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "She called her friend by a name she really didn't like, so she called Max, Twiggy."

Dean shook his head, "That girl's a piece of work, I'm tellin' you."

"That she is…" Sam nodded, grimacing, "That…she…"

"Sam?" Dean asked.

Sam jerked backward, and banged the back of his head against the wall.

"Sam!" Dean shouted.

_"So, how's life been treatin' ya, Twiggy?"_

_"Must you always call me that?" Max rolled her eyes. "And…life's been better."_

_"I know how you feel," Michelle said. "Man…five years ago we lost mom…and dad two years before that."_

_"Know how that feels," Max sighed, "Dealt with it when I was fourteen. Then my aunt died, so we went to Denver, to live with another aunt."_

_"I heard, it was a house fire, wasn't it?" Michelle asked. _

_Max looked at her hands, "Uh…yeah."_

Something rustled outside.

_"You hear that?" Michelle asked. _

_Max shook her head, "No…"_

_"God…I'm seeing things, and hearing things!" Michelle moaned. _

_"About that…um…this is gonna be a weird question," Max tugged on her collar, "But ah…did you see…you know, maybe…Harold…?"_

_"Like he was moving?" Michelle asked, a terrified look on her face. _

_"Yeah, like he was—"_

The last thing Sam heard before his vision ended was the sound of shattering glass.

"Sam, you all right?" Dean asked, looking at him with concern.

"Yeah…" Sam shook his head to clear it, feeling the lump in the back of his head, "What happened?"

"You used the wall as a target, and the back of your head as the ball," Dean explained. "Surprised you didn't crack the plaster."

"We've got to get to Max," Sam said, "I think the scarecrow's gonna attack."

"The scarecrow's gonna attack?" Dean asked, following Sam out of the room. "Dude, do you know how weird this sounds?"

"Weirder than a guy who was healed by a reaper?" Sam asked.

Dean frowned, and looked away, "Touché."

"But it all ties into this kid's story…" Sam explained about Harold the Scarecrow.


	7. Chapter 7

***

"So…" Michelle said, as Max sat in front of her. "You're not a detective."

"Nope, a bonded courier," Max answered. "Slash…"

"There's a slash?"

"Demon hunter," Max flinched.

"Like, urban legend kind of demon, or ghostly-great-beyond kind of demon?" Michelle asked.

"Oh…right…you believe in that," Max said. "See…I forgot that. And I didn't know if you'd remember me—"

"So you lied about your last name and occupation," Michelle frowned.

"Well…yeah," Max admitted.

"How is it you guys don't have the feds on your tails?" Michelle asked.

"I have no idea," Max shrugged. "Just lucky I guess."

"So…what do you think killed my brother?" Michelle asked seriously. Her eyes were moist, and she sniffled, "'Cause…I want to get rid of it. Or, if it was human, send it to jail…give it his prison mate Bubba, until he goes to death row." She sighed, "So, how's life been treatin' ya, Twiggy?"

"Must you always call me that?" Max rolled her eyes. "And…life's been better."

"I know how you feel," Michelle said. "Man…five years ago we lost mom…and dad two years before that."

"Know how that feels," Max sighed, "Dealt with it when I was fourteen. Then my aunt died, so we went to Denver, to live with another aunt."

"I heard, it was a house fire, wasn't it?" Michelle asked.

Max looked at her hands, "Uh…yeah."

_Something rustled outside. _

"You hear that?" Michelle asked.

Max shook her head, "No…"

"God…I'm seeing things, and hearing things!" Michelle moaned.

"About that…um…this is gonna be a weird question," Max tugged on her collar, "But ah…did you see…you know, maybe…Harold…?"

"Like he was moving?" Michelle asked, a terrified look on her face.

"Yeah, like he was—"

The glass shattered behind them, cutting her off.  
"Or, like that," Max said, as the scarecrow, now taller, and human-like, came at them. "It's got to be a spell or something…"

"That narrows it down," Michelle snapped, trying not to show fear. "Yeah, don't show fear, they can sense fear. This me without fear…and a sixty two pound hall pass."

"Zim!" Max said, despite the situation. "_Invader Zim!_"

Michelle chucked a nearby vase at the scarecrow, knocking it off its feet. "I think I just pissed it off," She said, when the scarecrow got back on its feet.

"I'd say that's a pretty safe bet…" Max frowned, "And I got nothin'…"

Harold was closer to Michelle, and swung a small scythe at her, and cut into her arm. Michelle cried out, and jumped away from it.

The door was kicked open, and a voice called out, "Hey!"

The scarecrow set its sights on Sam.

"Come and get me you ugly son of a bitch," He snapped.

The thing did as it was taunted to do, and faster than anyone could have foreseen, it had crossed the room, and threw Sam into the air. He hit the opposite wall, knocking a hole into it, then crumbled to the floor, amid the cracked plaster.

Dean shot it in the chest with his shotgun, filled with rock salt. Harold flew backward, emitted a flash of fluorescent green light, and didn't move when it hit the floor. "Sam…" Dean muttered, rushing toward his brother.

Blood trickled down Sam's face, and he wasn't conscious.

"First he gets visions, then gets thrown into a wall," Max said, and threw a glare at Harold, "When we get back, we're ripping that thing apart, then burning it."

"Come on, we gotta get him to the hospital," Dean told her, grabbing hold of Sam.

"Shouldn't we call an ambulance?" Michelle asked, as Max and Dean hauled Sam to the Impala.

"We're driving him," Max shrugged, "Lock the door, and get a move on."


	8. Chapter 8

***

Sam woke up with his head pounding in sync with his heartbeat. He groaned, "Did I have another vision?"

"No," Max said quietly. "Scarecrow."

"I had a scarecrow?" Sam asked, opening his eyes slowly, "Don't recall that."

"No," Dean rolled his eyes, "You were attacked by a scarecrow."

Sam frowned, "Oh yeah…that I do remember."

"Yeah," Max nodded.

"Hey…is he okay?" Michelle asked, coming into Sam's view.

"Yeah, he's fine," Dean said. "My hard headed brother's all right."

"What was that thing?" Michelle then asked.

"Harold," Max said. "But like I said, I think it was a spell. I don't know what it was…but the green light that came from it…"

"But reanimated objects don't normally give off light," Dean said, "They just…fall."

"I dunno," Max shook her head.

"Um…Max…can we talk?" Michelle asked, pointing toward the curtain.

"Sure," Max nodded, and walked into the halls of the ER. "What?"

Michelle stared walking, and Max fell into step beside her. "So…you guys really don't know what this thing is."

"My theory," Max said, "is that it's like Harold, from _Scary Stories 3_…except I don't know what's animating it."

"So…if your friends didn't show up…" Michelle trailed off.

"Maybe…" Max admitted. "I didn't have any weapons. I suppose we could've…"

"But…it killed my brother," Michelle then said. "Skinned him, and hung his skin out for the whole neighborhood to see."

"Yeah," Max nodded.

"When we're done here," Michelle said, "We're destroying that thing. Or I will. If that is what killed my brother…"

Max looked at Michelle, and saw the tears rolling down her friend's cheeks. "We'll find out what did this—"

"Then what?" Michelle snapped. "It won't brink Zack back to life. It won't change what's happened! I'll still be alone."

Max sighed, "You're right. It won't bring Zackary back. It won't change how your life's been. But it will ensure that you don't end up killed, or anyone else for that matter."

Michelle got into a nearby elevator, and headed for the lower level, and toward the cafeteria.

"Same ol' Michelle," Max teased, trying to distract her friend, "When upset, get food."

"It's better than hurting yourself," Michelle said.

"That wasn't funny," Max frowned.

"I know," Michelle shrugged, "But it's come to mind."

"Line's short," Max then said, "Let's get some sandwiches."

They were at a table when Michelle spoke again.

"Grilled cheese and tomato, with a Dr. Pepper," Michelle shook her head, "Same ol' Max."

"Eh, it's what I like," Max said, sipping her soda.

Michelle nodded, and was silent for a few minutes. "How did you deal with it?"

"What?"

"When your parents died. And your aunt…how did you deal?" Michelle asked.

Max took a deep breath. "I don't…I'm not sure…"

"You had to deal with it in some way," Michelle said.

Max frowned, she really didn't like discussing it. "I guess, on some levels I still don't believe it. Like, one day I'm gonna pick up the phone, and I'm gonna hear my mother's voice. Or, my father's."

Michelle nodded, "Yeah…I feel that way too…granted, you've had a lot longer to process things."

Max nodded. "After I got the call…I…I couldn't think…hell, for a while, I thought I was jinxed."

"Why?"

"Well, my parents died in September of '95, remember?" Max asked, "We came to stay with you, before we moved in with Aunt Melissa."

"I remember," Michelle said, "My mother loved Luke, he was just a tiny thing."

"Yeah…well…she died in December," Max sighed. "I can remember that one girl, Christine saying I was a jinx. That my family were getting killed off one by one."

"She died, you know?" Michelle asked, "Christine Mitchell died about a week after you left."

"Didn't know that," Max frowned. "Weird…"

"She was a real bitch anyway," Michelle scowled. "Stuck up rich girl…"

"Kind of a pity though," Max said, "She's always say, _'If I died today, I'd be remembered forever, but if you died, you'd be forgotten within the week.'_"

"Just plain rotten," Michelle shook her head, and finally took a bite out of her sandwich. "People forgot her too. It's a shame she didn't make it out of freshman year, but jeez…she hated us with a fiery passion…"

"Yeah, what did we ever do to her?" Max asked rhetorically.

"Man, by senior year, nobody remembered her."

"How weird is that?" Max asked, "The ones she hated the most are the only ones that remember her…"

"She'd always tell Zack that he'd never make it through his senior year," Michelle remembered.

"Weird that she was right," Max frowned.

Their conversation died after that, both moods seemed to drop. They ate in silence, then headed back to the ER, where Sam and Dean were ready to go.

"Doctor just released 'im," Dean explained.

The four headed back to Michelle's apartment, and walked in.

The first thing they saw was that Harold was gone. It looked like something had dragged him through the shards of glass littering the floor. Sam and Dean headed out onto the balcony, but there was no trail to follow.

"Guys!" Max called from the entry room. Michelle stood beside her, open mouthed.

Sam and Dean ran in, and they too stared at the wall. On the wall, near the hole Sam had made on impact, someone or something had written a message:

"_I told you the kid wouldn't make it past Senior Year."_

The letter's CM were written as a signature, and the words were written in what appeared to be fluorescent green eye shadow.

Sam felt a headache growing. "No…no…not again!" He shouted, before the vision hit.

_Ironwood high school…eleven years previously. _

_Max, who was at this point fourteen years old, walked with Michelle, down the hallway where he'd seen Zackary and his friend. _

_"A pentagram, Twiggy?" Michelle asked, as Max showed her the necklace. "Christine's gonna peg you as wanna be." _

_"Christine only wears the pentagram to scare people," Max rolled her eyes, "Which she does a pretty damn good job of it herself."_

_"True," Michelle agreed. "But isn't witchcraft against your religion?"_

_"Who said I practiced witchcraft?" Max asked, "I mean, I think it protects against evil spirits or something. I just think the pentagram's cool lookin'. Besides, if God can't accept me for who I am, and what I like, I think we're gonna have a problem. He knows I'm no witch."_

_"And your parents are cool with that?" Michelle asked. _

_"Don't really care," Max shrugged, "I think if I tried the witchcraft thing, then they'd blow a gasket, but I explained it to them, showed them the book I found, and they…'reluctantly agreed' to let me wear it."_

_Another group walked by. The leader was Max's height, with naturally blonde ringlet curls, dark eyes, and an air that said, 'I am better than anyone and everyone'. The vision flashed on her books, which had the name 'Christine Mitchell' written on them. "Hello Michelle. Twiggy."_

_"Max," Max growled. _

_"Your friends call you Twiggy."_

_"You're not my friend."_

_"And I'm glad I'm not," Christine scowled. "I don't want to end up dead."_

_Max's face paled, and she looked like she wanted to knock out a few of Christine's perfect teeth._

_"Leave her alone, Christine," Michelle snarled. _

_"By the way, Michelle," Christine asked, "Is your brother still reading about the freaky crap?"_

_"He's seven," Michelle defended her brother._

_"Please, when I was seven, I was living in the real world," Christine flipped her hair over her shoulder, "I remember when I had to go over to your house. He had to tell me about his favorite story, the disgusting one about Harold, the scarecrow who skinned his owner."_

_"Maybe someone should take note of that," Max muttered. _

_Christine started walking away, "I'm tellin' you, he's not going to make it through Senior Year." She gave a laugh, and turned back to face them, "Who knows, maybe he'll end up getting skinned alive by Harold!"_

Christine's laugh echoed in Sam's ears.


	9. Chapter 9

"What is it with you and all these visions lately?" Max asked, as she and Dean held him steady.

Sam shook his head, and the two helped him over to the sofa. Michelle held a bottle of water in front of him, which he grabbed and drank slowly.

"So…what did you see this time?" Dean asked.

"Christine Mitchell," Sam said. "On the way here you told me you talked to her at the school."

"That's impossible," Max and Michelle said at the same time.

"How?" Dean asked.

"Christine Mitchell died in December of 1995," Michelle explained.

"Really…awful person, wasn't she?" Sam asked.

Max nodded, "Yep. Said I was jinxed. Insulted me straight to my face, on a regular basis."

"Sounds awful," Dean said.

"She was," Michelle agreed, "Just a totally rotten human being."

"So…if she's dead," Dean frowned, "Then who did I talk to? This girl had bleach-blonde hair, wore dark make-up, and…" Dean pointed at the message, "Well, probably the stuff that was written with."

Max looked at Michelle, "Go do your stuff, Willow."

"Uh-huh," Michelle nodded.

As she left the room, Sam and Dean turned to Max, "What do you mean?"

"She's gonna check to make sure," Max said. "She's getting into the school roster. What year was she?"

"I'm assuming a senior, which doesn't fit," Dean frowned.

"But the Harold thing does," Max said. "She always said he'd be done in by Harold."

Michelle came back into the room later, and shook her head, "Nope. No people named Christine, or Mitchell. Nobody."

Max frowned, "Her boyfriends…both were seniors."

"Yeah," Michelle nodded. "I remember that."

"She always saw herself as a senior," Max said. "Or, she'd say she was a senior, she looked older than she really was, especially with the make-up she wore, half of the time. I heard your spirit is the way you see yourself as perfect…no wait, that's an_ Angel _reference…but maybe the principle applies. Maybe that's how she saw herself."

"Maybe," Michelle said. "So if we're dealing with Christine, why is she suddenly coming around now?"

"She didn't like your brother," Max said. "She didn't think he'd make it to Senior Year. So maybe she came back to make sure she was right." She paused, "Also, nobody remembered her. Maybe she thinks people will remember her forever this way."

"Basically, she's a spoiled brat that still wants to be the center of attention?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"Pretty much," Max nodded.

Michelle started laughing. It was a grim, humorless laugh, which made all three turn and stare at her before asking what was so funny.

"I just remembered something…I can't believe I forgot it," Michelle sobered up. "Actually, it's not so funny when you think about it. It's a very sad tale, no humor in it."

"Well, are you gonna keep us in the dark, or are you gonna share the story with the rest of the class?" Dean asked, feeling slightly unnerved at the sound she'd made.

"The way Christine Mitchell died…" Michelle said, "She'd put on the bright green eye shadow, and black mascara and eyeliner, and the black lipstick. She'd used the eye shadow to write on the wall, remember me always, with the CM signature, then she overdosed on something…nobody knew what." Michelle shook her head, "Rumor had it, her parents forced her into therapy. Didn't want to deal with her problems, so she was thrown in with a shrink." She sighed, "Actually, her parents didn't want her at all. Hired a nanny to take care of her, barely spoke to her at all."

"Ouch," Max frowned. "So, basically, she wanted to be loved and remembered, but nobody did. But everyone remembers how she told Zack he'd die in his senior year. So, that could have triggered her…awakening."

"And the scarecrow. She can control the scarecrow," Sam pointed out.

"So…where do we go from here?" Michelle asked.


	10. Chapter 10

***

"This isn't what I had in mind," Michelle said, sitting in the chair by the window.

Sam looked at her from his laptop, "You think your apartment's safe?"

"I figured you guys would go after the sucker, destroy it, and be done with it," Michelle said, arms folded, legs crossed.

"Not as simple as that," Sam shrugged.

"So…what are you doing?" Michelle then asked.

"Looking up places your ghostly friend could've taken that scarecrow to," Sam replied.

"Not a whole lot of places," Michelle informed him. "Unless it's being recently built, nothing's empty enough."

"That's helpful," Sam sighed.

A few minutes of silence, before Michelle asked, "So…what are Dean and Max doing?"

"I don't even want to think about that," Sam grimaced.

"So…they're goin' out, in other words," Michelle said.

"Yes, they are," Sam nodded.

Michelle frowned, "Then I don't think your brother's safe."

"Curse of being a Winchester," Sam rolled his eyes.

"No…that's not what I mean," Michelle said. "I mean, Max is the jinx."

Sam frowned, "The Jinx?"

"Yeah," Michelle nodded. "My brother would get killed by Harold, but Max…"

"Her parents died in a plane crash," Sam said. "How is that…?"

"Her aunt died in a fire," Michelle said, "'Bout…two or three months later. Christine called Max a jinx, her family was dropping like flies."

"But Dean's…" Sam frowned, "Someone she cares about…you think he's a target?"

"Makes sense," Michelle said. "Besides…he shot the scarecrow…she's probably really pissed off about that."

***

Max sat on the trunk of the Impala, as Dean filled the gas tank.

"So…that girl really was a bitch?" Dean asked, not liking the silence.

Max nodded, yet still stared off into space. "Yep, she was." She sighed, "Funny, the only way to make herself feel better was to add salt to the wounds of others."

"She took Michelle's brother," Dean agreed. "Insulted you guys to your faces…"

"That…isn't what I'm talking about," Max said quietly. "I mean…I was the jinx."

"Jinx…that's horrible," Dean said, not understanding it.

"It is when she says you're a jinx to your family," Max growled, "She went as far as to tell me she was glad we weren't friends, she didn't want to end up dead."

Their gazes met, and realization set in.

"Okay…let's head back to the hotel," Dean said, putting the pump back into its hook. Both got into the Impala, and it took off.

"So…we need to find a location," Max frowned. "Maybe it's her old house or something."

"We don't even know if it's gonna come after us," Dean pointed out. "Maybe she'll go after someone else first."

"No," Max shook her head, "We were at the top of her hit list. She'll go for me first. I don't think she'll go after my brothers, she's not that desperate. She'll want to find someone here."

"Three guesses who," Dean rolled his eyes. "So…question becomes, how do we destroy her?"

"She used the scarecrow," Max said. "I'd say a safe bet is to destroy the Leather Face look alike."

Dean pulled into the parking lot, stopping the car, but not cutting the engine. "This place is too dark."

Max noticed the only light came from the moon, the streetlights were out. "Weapons in the trunk?"

"Loaded and ready to go," Dean nodded, removing the keys from the ignition.

"Let's see what she's got," Max said, opening her door.

Both rounded the car, and opened the trunk, propping open the piece hiding the arsenal. Dean grabbed a pistol, and handed it to Max, "Probably better use this," he muttered.

"Easier to hide," Max agreed.

Dean grabbed a pistol for himself, and closed the trunk. "Go on," He said, pointing toward the door.

"You first," Max said.

"What?" Dean asked, "Why?"

"She won't hurt me, she'll try and hurt you," Max explained. "I can watch, incase you miss something."

Dean frowned, "so basically, I'm the decoy?"

"No," Max shook her head.

"Sounds like I'm a decoy," Dean grumbled, but walked across the darkened parking lot, keeping an eye out, and his gun at the ready.

Max watched him, but when she went to take a step, someone spoke up behind her.

"What do you know," she said, "The jinx is at it again."

Max's grip tightened around her gun, wanting to pull the trigger. "Christine Mitchell," She said, turning. Keeping her ears trained on Dean's sounds, she didn't hear anything suspicious. "You've changed."

"You haven't," Christine said.

"I'm twenty-five," Max said, "You're fourteen, but pretending to be eighteen."

"You're still a jinx," Christine pointed out. "You put your brothers in danger, because of the Thrall. Your parents and your aunt are dead. So…how is it that people can stand to be near you?"

"My friends can take care of themselves," Max growled.

Christine smirked, "Can you be sure of that?"

Max whirled around at Dean's yelp of pain. "Dean!" She cried out, but didn't see him anywhere.

"Jinx," Christine said in a singsong voice.

Max whirled around, and pulled the trigger. When the rock salt hit Christine, she howled in pain, and vanished.

Another cry of pain filled the air.

"Dean…!" Max whispered, and ran in that direction. She found Dean lying behind a row of bushes, bleeding from a slice across his chest, and another across his stomach.

"Damn Leather Face…came out of nowhere…" Dean grimaced, spitting out blood.

Max took off her jacket, and pressed it to Dean's wounds, to stop the bleeding. "We'll just get you to a hospital…"

"Max…" Dean croaked, pointing at something.

Max looked up, and the last thing she saw was the scythe hilt coming at her head.


	11. Chapter 11

***

Michelle walked outside, Sam in tow. "I know I heard screams."

"Guys!" Max called, rushing over. "We need to get Dean to a hospital."

"Why, what happened?" Sam asked, as she led them over to where Dean lay, unconscious.

"The scarecrow," Max sighed, "Christine was right…I am a jinx."

"No, she wasn't," Sam frowned, "We just need to get Dean to the hospital."

Max nodded nervously, "Right…of course."

***

Sam only half-listened as the doctor explained about Dean's injuries, already forming the cliff-notes version in his mind. _Lucky guy, could've been a lot worse, needs to stay here for a day or two for observations._

The doctor walked away, and Sam returned his gaze to Max. She sat in the chair, staring at her hands. He walked over, and sat down next to her. "He's going to be fine."

"He shouldn't even be here," Max said. "This is my fault…I'm the jinx after all."

"Max, you're not a jinx," Sam said. He knew something was off, this wasn't Max. "Why would you think you're a jinx?"

"My parents and aunt are dead," Max sighed, "Dean was almost killed by the scarecrow…"

Sam frowned, "but he wasn't."

"I was the one that told him to go first," Max told him. "Then Christine showed up…I was supposed to be watchin' his back, and I blew it."

Sam shook his head, leaving Max to wallow in her self-pity. He walked down the hall, and walked into Dean's room.

"Hey, Sammy!" Dean said, "Room with a view!"

Sam shook his head.

"Well excuse me for seeing the brighter side of this," Dean frowned.

"They gave you morphine, didn't they?" Sam asked.

Dean smiled, and nodded.

Sam shook his head again, and frowned, "Dude…there's no TV in here."

"I know," Dean frowned, "There's something wrong there…" He then looked at the door, then to Sam, "Where's Max?"

"Wallowing in self pity," Sam said.

"That's not Max, then," Dean said firmly. "Max doesn't wallow in self pity."

"I know," Sam nodded. "There's something…off."

"You sense anything, Psychic Wonder?" Dean asked. He shook his head; "Okay…tryin' to be lucid here…the scarecrow knocked her out."

"Scarecrow," Sam nodded.

"Hey," Max said, sticking her head in through the door.

"Dude…what happened to you?" Dean asked, cocking his head.

"Shouldn't I be askin' you that question?" Max asked, confused.

"The scarecrow hit you with the scythe," Dean frowned. "I thought you'd have at least had some stitches or somethin'…"

"Nope, he didn't even hit me that hard," Max shook her head, "I'm…ah…gonna go check out Michelle's place, maybe there was something we missed."

"All right," Dean smiled, "See ya later Cristo."

Max's eyes flashed brown for a minute, then went back to green. "What the heck's up with him?" She asked Sam.

"Morphine," Sam said, meeting her gaze. "Uh, how about I go with you? Two heads are better than one, right?"

Max frowned, "Uh…all right." She shrugged, "I'll wait outside."

The door closed, "Okay, I'm gonna take a wild guess and say Christine."

"So…" Sam said, "Do you think we have to do an exorcism, or do you think destroying the scarecrow would work?"

"Just don't hurt Max," Dean said.

"I'll try not to," Sam frowned, "Don't think I should have to."

"The spirit is attached to the Leather Face wannabe," Dean said. "So, destroy the scarecrow, and hopefully it will get rid of Christine."

"But when she's inside Max?" Sam said, "I don't know, man."

"Well, we've never really encountered a spirit like this before, right?" Dean pointed out, "A spirit that came back, cast a spell on another thing, for its own personal needs. It might not die like a regular spirit."

Sam had to agree with that logic. "Christine is one twisted spirit."

"That she is," Dean nodded. He frowned, "Dude, when are we leavin'?"

"_I'm_ leaving right now," Sam said, getting to his feet. "_You _don't get to leave 'till tomorrow at the earliest."

"Dude, I'm not stayin' here all night!" Dean snapped.

"See yah in the morning, Dean," Sam smiled, giving his brother a wave goodbye and headed for the door.

"Sam, don't you dare…hey!" Dean tried to get up, but winced as he felt the stitches pull. "Sam, get back here…SAM!"

Sam shut the door behind him, finally laughing at his brother's reaction.

Max shook her head, "Right…come on."

Max drove to the apartment, neither speaking until the car was parked outside.

"So…you got any idea what we're looking for?" Sam asked.

"Anything that would point the way to the hideout," Max said, walking up the stairs.

Max unlocked the door, and walked inside. The glass was still broken, the message was still written on the wall. Max had left the room, and Sam noticed Dean had left his shotgun behind. He found it still had rock salt left inside it.

As Sam picked up the shotgun, something rustled behind him. Not even thinking, he cocked the gun, whirled around, and fired a shot that hit the scarecrow in the chest. The scarecrow hit the wall, and clumps of yarn fell out. The scarecrow's scythe was nowhere to be found.

"Might be under a spell," Sam said, as Max came into the room, "But it's still a crappy scarecrow."

"So what do you suggest?" Max asked.

Sam raised the shotgun again, and cocked it, turning to face her, "Drop the scythe."

Max's eyes darkened to brown once more, and she smirked, "So…shot gun filled with rock salt. Max has been a busy girl since she left Ironwood."

"Things change when you leave high school," Sam said.

"So…you guys go from town to town, hunting these things?" Christine smirked, "And I thought my life was crappy."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Uh-huh."

"So what?" Christine asked, "We face off? See who can hit the other first?" Christine frowned, "I mean, what's more deadly? My scythe here, or the rock salt?"

Sam mentally cringed, but pulled the trigger. Christine/Max flew backward, hitting the wall, taking yet another chunk out of the plaster. The wind had been knocked out of her, and she coughed loudly.

"Rock salt doesn't need to be deadly," Sam shrugged, "It just hurts like hell."

Christine's brown eyes glared at him.

"What?" Sam asked, "Can't you move now? Or are you the only thing keepin' Max awake in there?"

Green warred with the brown in Max's eyes, and her eyelids drooped.

Sam dragged the remains of the scarecrow out to the balcony, and easily ripped the rest of it apart. He doused it in lighter fluid and rock salt. He lit the scarecrow on fire when he heard Christine scrambling onto the balcony. He sidestepped just as she came screaming through the broken glass door.

She screeched to a halt, seeing the scraps of yarn and newspaper go up in flames.

Sam watched in fascination as Christine was sucked away. It seemed as though the smoke from the scarecrow was sucking her away along with it. Max's body was rigid, as her spirit was sucked out, screaming in agony and anger, trying to keep hold of Max. She vanished with a final scream, and a flash of fluorescent green light.

Max rocked on her heels, and came dangerously close to falling into the flames before Sam caught her. "Sam…?" She asked groggily. Blood now ran down the side of her face, from where she'd been hit with the scythe, and hit the wall.

"Yeah?"

"My head and ribs are killin' me…"

"I can explain about that…"

"You shot me with rock salt, didn't you?"

"It shut Christine up," Sam said in a weak defense. "Gave me time to set the scarecrow on fire, to destroy her."

"When I'm feelin' better," Max said, "Remind me to either thank you, or kick your ass."

"I'd settle for the thank-you," Sam suggested.

Max glanced up at him, before tossing the scythe into the flames.


	12. Chapter 12

***

"So…" Dean said, "Three cracked ribs, and a broken one."

Max and Sam sat on either side of him, back in the hospital room. Dean's view covered most of the parking lot, since it was dark; all they could see was moving headlights two floors below.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it," Max said, nodding. She touched the bandage around her head, "Three stitches, wall impact as well as getting clunked by a scythe handle."

"All in a day's work," Sam shrugged.

"Michelle's probably not gonna be happy about the other hole in her wall," Max frowned. "Though, she's not happy anyway, because she's gotta stay in the hotel room until the renovations on her apartment are done."

"So…Christine's gone, right?" Dean asked. "She's not coming back?"

"God I hope not," Max shuddered. "She never shut up. It was only a few hours but damn, she kept on saying how you'd never know it wasn't me, how I was the jinx, stuff like that."

"Pretty obvious it wasn't you," Sam said, "You never wallow in self-pity like that."

"That was even worse."

"Ah, it couldn't have been that bad," Sam smirked, "_Twiggy_."

Max stood, reached over Dean, and smacked Sam in the back of the head. "My name is _Max. _Not Twiggy."

"Right…" Sam nodded, rubbing the back of his head.

"Yep, Christine is definitely gone," Dean smiled and shook his head. "Our job is done."

"We're still not busting you out of here," Max said, as Sam got to his feet.

"Aww, come on," Dean whined, as they headed for the door. "Hey, come on! Get back here! Guys!"

Max paused, and walked back over to him. She kissed him on the forehead, and ignored his attempt at the sad puppy dog look. She walked back over to Sam, and flashed one last smile at him, "See yah in the morning, Dean."


End file.
